Mankind's only alternative 21   MAR.   23  
Mankind's only alternative

The Fall of The eXile For all those wondering what the "Save The eXile Fundrasier" banner is all about, here it is as simply as it can be phrased: The eXile is shutting down.
June 11, 2008 in eXile Blog

War Nerd: War of the Babies in Taki's Magazine The War Nerd talks about babies, the greatest weapon of the 20th century.
May 28, 2008 in eXile Blog

Kids, Meet Your President A website for Russian kids to learn all about President Medvedev's passion for school, sports and family.
May 22, 2008 in eXile Blog

Cellphone Democracy Cam If this girl was exposed to Jeffersonian democracy...
May 20, 2008 in Face Control

More Classy B&W Dyev Photos Yet another hot Russian babe imitating the Catpower look...
May 20, 2008 in Face Control

Proof That Genetic Memory Is Real! Sure, the Ottomans shut down the Istanbul Slavic slave markets centuries ago...
May 15, 2008 in Face Control

Russia's Orthodox Church Youth Outreach Program The priest is going, "Father Sansei is very impressed with grasshopper Sasha’s...
May 15, 2008 in Face Control

More Classy B&W Club Photos w/Russian Dyevs We took the Pepsi Challenge here...
May 15, 2008 in Face Control

Blogs RSS feed

Unfiled March 20, 2003
Escape from Tynda
By Jake Rudnitsky Browse author Email
Page 2 of 6
It was only after I returned from a trip to Vladivostok at that end of February that I my structured existence fell apart. The babushka had left to visit her granddaughter in Samara and with her went my equilibrium. Part of the problem was that I had rediscovered sex and substance abuse during my trip to Vladivostok, after three months of living as a monk. And, with the babushka gone, I had nobody to keep me in check. So, for the next two weeks, right up to my expulsion, I went native with a vengeance. My guides were a bunch of petty criminals that I had known since my arrival; all it took was to start drinking with them to be reduced to their level.

Before I get into the gory details, though, I should elaborate on my problems with the FSB. During most of this period, my apartment resembled an unlicensed drug store that could have earned me 5 years in the zone. I was perpetually wasted and occasionally corrupting minors, while my friends processed the noxious khimka almost daily in the kitchen. In the midst of this sea of illegality, the FSB nailed me for... trying to register at OVIR.

Location, location, location: a bird

Location, location, location: a bird's eye view of Tynda in it's prime, 1987

My initial Tynda registration was set to expire in early March. I had already lived there for three months and figured it would be a simple procedure. OVIR's FSB agent, a grotesquely fat man in his late 20s hyperconscious of just how little depends on him, had other plans for me. Apparently, he had been to visit the babushka several times in search of me while I was away in Vladivostok.

Now that I had come to him, he summoned me to his office and, with the simian look of a border guard at a crossing unused to foreigners, he slowly flipped through the pages of my passport. At first, he seemed more interested in grilling me about my stay in Italy, where I had received my visa, than telling me what was wrong. The fat fuck was particularly interested in what Italians eat. Finally, he got to the point: if I wanted to stay any longer, I needed to produce my journalist's accreditation. It was a red herring - he just wanted me out, but I didn't have it with me.

After trying to reason with him that I had never had any problems registering anywhere in Russia - even until recently in Tynda - I finally settled for one week's registration, during which time I said I'd have our secretary send the accreditation. That plan bombed when she didn't know what I was talking about.

By this point, I was delusional enough to decide to just lay low after my registration ended. I had a hostage's mentality; after four months in Tynda I had grown attached to my tormentors. Leaving without a climax just didn't seem right. I even developed a network of hideouts - without any sense of just how ridiculous my plan must have seemed - before an unpleasant encounter a few days later reminded me of just how small Tynda is.

The following Saturday, while I was hanging out at Tranzit, considered Tynda's most "progressive" club because they play the occasional Beastie Boys song, the FSB agent stumbled in. He had clearly been drinking for a long time, his skin blotched red in that way bloated-fat people get. Initially, I saw it as an opportunity to reach an agreement po-chelovechesky, forgetting the cardinal rule about small-fry operatives: the less authority they have, the more eager they are to flaunt it.

I tried being friendly, even drinking a shot with him and his wobbling friend, but to no avail. He eventually told me that he was hassling me because he had read everything I had written about Tynda on our site, and that he wasn't pleased with what he had seen. It didn't make sense at first; did this slug really think he could persecute me? Was I the victim of some clumsy attempt at an FSB crackdown? He had a working knowledge of about seven English words, so how did he even know what I had written?

SHARE:  Digg  My Web  Facebook  Reddit

Bleak House :

The Meta-Metamorphosis : By DJ FrAnZ KaFkA

Moscow Gets Its Own Wall St : Why this prosperity thing means zilch to gopniki

From Chelni To Guantanomo :


Save The eXile: The War Nerd Calls Mayday
The future of The eXile is in your hands! We're holding a fundraiser to save the paper, and your soul. Tune in to Gary Brecher's urgent request for reinforcements and donate as much as you can. If you don't, we'll be overrun and wiped off the face of the earth, forever.

Scanning Moscow’s Traffic Cops
Automotive Section
We’re happy to introduce a new column in which we publish Moscow’s raw radio communications, courtesy of a Russian amateur radio enthusiast. This issue, eXile readers are given a peek into the secret conversations of Moscow’s traffic police, the notorious "GAIshniki."

Eleven Years of Threats: The eXile's Incredible Journey
Feature Story By The eXile
Good Night, and Bad Luck: In a nation terrorized by its own government, one newspaper dared to fart in its face. Get out your hankies, cuz we’re taking a look back at the impossible crises we overcame.

Your Letters
Russia's freedom-loving free market martyr Mikhail Khodorkovsky answers some of this week's letters, and he's got nothing but praise for President Medvedev.

Clubbing Adventures Through Time
Club Review By Dmitriy Babooshka
eXile club reviewer Babooshka takes a trip through time with the ghost of Moscow clubbing past, present and future, and true to form, gets laid in the process.

The Fortnight Spin
Bardak Calendar By Jared Lindquist
Jared comes out with yet another roundup of upcoming bardak sessions.

Your Letters
Richard Gere tackles this week's letters. Now reformed, he fights for gerbil rights all around the world.

13 Toxic Talents: Hollywood’s Worst Polluters
America By Eileen Jones
Everybody complains about celebrities, but nobody does anything about them. People, it’s time to stop fretting about whether we’re a celebrity-obsessed culture—we are, we have been, we’re going to be—and instead take practical steps to clean up the celebrity-obsessed culture we’ve got...


    MAIN    |    RUSSIA    |    WAR NERD     |    [SIC!]    |    BAR-DAK    |    THE VAULT    |    ABOUT US    |    RSS

© "the eXile". Tel.: +7 (495) 623-3565, fax: +7 (495) 623-5442